as promised...

I promised a few examples of my moleskine work from my first notebook, so I will keep my promise. all of the ones posted have already been on my flickr page for quite some time, so check them out, but here are a few for the blog.

thanksgiving

thanksgiving is a brilliant holiday, but i am beginning to get sick of it. what ever happened to sitting around the table and telling each other what you are most thankful for? why is it important to make plans to see each and every family member on that day and to eat with them?

troy and I ate three dinners for thanksgiving. seriously. and that was after I watched the Today Show's special on the caloric intake of the average American on thanksgiving. depressing. here I am, about to get married and have to squeeze into a dress, and i cant even begin a diet because everyone expects everyone else to eat dinner with them.

the dinner is no longer special. now, its about hassle and scheduling, and is just another holiday where family takes a back seat to retail. (and i wont even go into the whole beginning of thanksgiving and how it really is founded on genicide and hate, and the displacement of native americans, and slavery and the very people who spawned the people who spawned wallstreet.)

black friday has slipped out of its post-thanksgiving food-coma stupor and taken over the entire weekend. retail stores have raped familys of the holiday.

instead of sitting around the table and talking, families are rushing through that expensive and hard-earned meal to make it to some retail store before every other person in that particular area.

people lined up at Best Buy in Owings Mills, MD at 6pm. did they even eat dinner? did they say hello to the families that flew into MD to see them for the holiday as they were cramming cranberry sauce into their face and grabbing the car keys on the way out the door? the cops were called to that particular store twice for fighting and threats.

and the worst part is, the retaliers are pulling one big heist over on the trusting shoppers after another.

example: Kohls. Troy and I went to Kohls around 4pm on black friday. the sale was still going on, but I didnt see a single sale. A shirt that was on sale for $15 a month ago was still on the rack, in the same place, only it was marked up to $50 and on sale for $25. so...the person who was not paying attention would say "look, honey, this is a $50 shirt, thats not bad for $25" until said idiot goes into work with the shirt on, sees someone else with it, they talk about where they got it, and said idiot finds out that the $50 shirt was actually a $15 shirt back in October.

and what is this about "only the first 15 people in line get a flat screen tv"? so youre telling me that, with all of the money that retailers make, and of all of the tv's they ship in and sell all year, they can only order 15 of them on the biggest shopping day of the year?


not to mention the two men shot, the pregnant woman knocked down, the 45 year old man who was trampled to death at walmart......

not over diamonds or gold, or a car, or a house, or a life-or-death situation...that poor man, a walmart employee who probably didnt want to work that day because he wanted to spend it with his kids....was trampled to death, stepped on, walked over, tripped over, crushed. CRUSHED TO DEATH BY FAT AMERICAN CONSUMERS over a television. over something that almost every single home in this country has. every single home.

i read somewhere recently that even homes that have no food, clothing, or heat for the winter have a television. a kid can go without food for a week in this country, but they still watch cartoons.

and yet so many people were worried about getting a television that they killed someone over it.


and that brings me to the "that cant happen to me" mentality in this country: I almost gurantee that all of those people who trampled the poor man watched it on the news that night and thought "what animals. killed the poor man. what a shame" not even stopping to consider that they did it, that his blood is on their hands.

at walmart. isnt that a joke? not Saks 5th avenue. not Tiffanys. not a gucci outlet, not nordstroms, not a place with any sort of worth. walmart. the place that owns half of the known world. the place that scouts out small mainstreet towns with the intent to destroy.

walmart...that place that you hate because it is always crowded, the parking lot is a pain in your ass, the employees are the lowest of the lowest class, and so are most of the shoppers. the place you wish you never had to go, and yet you have to because who else has a lightbulb or windsheild wipers, or a pack of napkins, or glad plugins at all hours of the day for inflation-proof prices? that place that has helped destroy the economy, and multiple cultures around the world. the place that preys on good quality product makers by exploiting the lower class.

it was for this place, this hell-hole on earth that a man died.


now isnt that a shame?



it is a shame. this whole thing is a shame, and yet it will never stop. black friday is as much a part of our culture as buying tons of christmas gifts, eating our weight in turkey or mcdonalds hamburgers, shooting each other over a little argument, beating each other with baseball bats at stoplights, jerryspringer, theft, child abuse and neglect, crooked politicians, racism and reverse racism, and inflation. it is an accepted norm, and as long as there is a lower class, it will continue to grow every year, preying on those who cant afford inflated retail prices.

hello, blog

I'll skip the excuses for being a poor blogger and just get right to business....

1. The United States just elected its first black president, and I feel that I should at least say something about it, so bear with me:

I will not say who I voted for or what I believe, in an attempt to avoid random angry comments from people. I will say, however, that for the first time in a long while, I have hope. I am so tired of hearing how horrible our government is, and hearing that things need to change, and I am just happy to finally hear that change is coming. Even bad change is change, and anything that changes has a chance to make something better. I wish The future President all the best, and I hope that he may be numbered among the great in our History.

2. I have a job. after what seems like ages of joblessness and searching and interviewing, I have landed the perfect job as a Graphic Designer. I am so excited to have finally reached the point in life where I will no longer have to wait on tables or hold temporary jobs just to make money for gas. This job comes with an arsenal of fantastic benefits and perks, and I could not be happier.

3. Troy bought me a flickr pro account today. randomly. So that means that I have something to keep me occupied until I start my new job, and I will be scanning in my moleskine paintings. I also no longer have to delete pictures just to add more. so keep an eye out for flickr updates.

4. Troy and I have been re-thinking the marriage thing. I mean, the marriage is still on, its just the Wedding that is up in the air. There is alot to consider, but I think that, once we make the big decisions (venue, food, day) things will be fun, and much more easy. and, FYI, i do not want to hear wedding horror stories. I wont say that mine will be different, because I know it wont, but I refuse to allow fear to run my wedding.

Now, if I could just afford the dress I want. Believe it or not, it is part of the Disney's Princess collection. It is beautiful, but I am afraid of the price tag.

5. We have begun working on our future home. Its a complicated narrative, so I'll save it for a later day.

6. I have finished my first moleskine book. I'm addicted, and I'm glad. The motivation and creative outlet is good for me.

7. Maryland might get its first snow flurries this weekend. Not sure how I feel about it yet. I'm not really ready for it.

8. "If All Goes Wrong" just came out, and of course Troy bought it that day. If you are a Smashing Pumpkins fan, or just a fan of music and the artistic struggle behind good music, you should see the interview with Pete Townshend and the documentary. Genius. BIlly Corgan always has a way of taking my own personal beliefs and putting them into words.

9. The Pour House closed down. The Pour House is a local coffee shop in my town, and, while it was always packed with obnoxious teens and the prices were pretty high, it was still a local business beloved by the community. I spent the better part of my highschool and early college years there, and now I cannot believe it is gone. I have been going less and less in the past few years, but it felt good to know that the place would be there if ever I needed it. NOt to mention, now, that is one less local business. some person's savings and dreams, devoured by the economy. As much as I love starbucks coffee, I would rather see the local starbcks shut its doors, at least starbucks has a chance to come back. a local business, however, cannot just bounce back, it sucks up every resourse the owner has, and then thats it. I try my best to patronize local business as often as possible because they have more integrity and sincerity toward customers than a giant corporate chain. But, alas, the pour house is no more.

10. Gas is currently 1.97 in my home town. How crazy is that? I do not even know what else to say about it. lets just leave it at this: I hope it stays that way.

11. finally, a word about football: HURRAY RAVENS. lets just keep moving forward and I'll be happy.

thats it for now. good day to you, my random reader.

when will it end?

I have been sick since Sunday. Misery. Troy and I went to Skyline Drive, and drove 99.9 miles to get there, drove 53 miles each way along skyline drive, and then 99.9 miles back. The view was beautiful, and totally worth the drive, but, unfortunately, the altitude change meant colder weather on the mountain, and I came down with one hell of a head-cold.

for anyone who may stumble on this blog and not know, Skyline drive is a 150 mi (169 km) road that runs through the Shenandoah national park in Virgina. The road is along the peaks of the Blue Ridge Mountains, and stretches along US rt 81. During autumn, the view is spectacular with the color of changing leaves, and the sky is usually pretty clear during this time of year, so the view stretches out for miles. It is really interesting as you ascend the mountain slowly, to drive into the micro-climate of the top of the mountain. When we went, the valley was in complete sunshine, but the top of the mountain was cloudy and ominous. Beautiful. I think, and I may be confused, that the road has been named one of the most impressive roads in the world because it travels along the peaks of and through a range of mountains. I think I remember seeing it on the History Channel's Modern Marvels.

so that is why I am now sitting, bundled up, at my desk, and periodically sneezing all over my macbook.

being sick always reminds me of being a kid. is that strange? so, in the spirit of being sick, here is one of my favorite childhood poems by Shel Silverstein:



SICK
"I cannot go to school today"
Said little Peggy Ann McKay.
"I have the measles and the mumps,
A gash, a rash and purple bumps.
My mouth is wet, my throat is dry.
I'm going blind in my right eye.
My tonsils are as big as rocks,
I've counted sixteen chicken pox.
And there's one more - that's seventeen,
And don't you think my face looks green?
My leg is cut, my eyes are blue,
It might be the instamatic flu.
I cough and sneeze and gasp and choke,
I'm sure that my left leg is broke.
My hip hurts when I move my chin,
My belly button's caving in.
My back is wrenched, my ankle's sprained,
My 'pendix pains each time it rains.
My toes are cold, my toes are numb,
I have a sliver in my thumb.
My neck is stiff, my voice is weak,
I hardly whisper when I speak.
My tongue is filling up my mouth,
I think my hair is falling out.
My elbow's bent, my spine ain't straight,
My temperature is one-o-eight.
My brain is shrunk, I cannot hear,
There's a hole inside my ear.
I have a hangnail, and my heart is ...
What? What's that? What's that you say?
You say today is .............. Saturday?
G'bye, I'm going out to play!"

ampersand

While sitting in my bedroom and listening to an owl outside, I decided that the world is a giant list with no commas.

I wonder how many times a day the word "and" is uttered by human mouth. Does every language have its own variation of "and" or are there cultures that exist without the concept of the word? Is there a language in which people list one object at a time, giving each object its own sentence?

I went to the store. Frank went to the store. June went to the store with us.

I do not know about other languages, but it occurs to me that without "and" the English language would lack inclusion, and would require much longer sentences.

I went to the store. Frank went to the store with me. So did June.

Frank, June, and I went to the store.

without saying that he, she, and I went to the store, it becomes difficult to explain that the three of us went to the same store at the same time. It is possible, but needlessly difficult.

to me, the ampersand is one of the most beautifully designed characters, nay, objects ever created. so much is expressed in that single symbol, and yet most people have no idea that it has a name, a real function, or a history.

Then again, most people do not know how to speak their native language.

I have studied language in depth, and I must confess that I even have trouble speaking it at times. So many rules that are broken constantly. Of course, I am not a language purist, I understand that language must change and evolve in order to stay alive, and that 20 generations from now my language will be obsolete, but still, it is sad for one to watch such a slaughtering of something so significant as a language.


I wish that I posessesd the power to hear my language from the perspective of a non-listener.

to an American, french sounds distinct from German, which sounds distinct from Japanese, but do those distinctions hold true to other people from other linguistic backgrounds? i.e. to a french person, is German as different from Japanese as it is to me? and what does English sound like to people who do not speak it? is it as classical and beautiful as French sounds to me? or as fluid as spanish? or is it as harsh and abrupt as Russian?

which is the hardest language to learn? which is the easiest? if everyone spoke one language, would everyone get along? would there be nothing to fight over?

I suppose people would still fight.

a world with one language would be a horrid place.

the update and other ramblings

again, I must apologize to myself for not writing more often. such a vicious cycle. but enough self-deprecation, I will attempt to move onto something with a bit more substance.

I posted a blog a few months ago about a friend who was in a terrible accident on his motorcycle and was in a coma. Here is the update: I was sitting at my desk yesterday doing whatever it is that I do at my desk, when my phone rang. I was scared when said friend's name appeared on the ID, afraid that it may be bad news. I certainly did not expect to hear his voice.

apparently, in the time that has elapsed since my last news of him, he has almost fully recovered. he is home from the hospital, progressing well with his physical therapy, and is, so far, mentally sound. The biggest relief was that he sounded like himself. He paused more between words, but for the massive amount of head trauma, I am surprised that he can even talk.

he remembers nothing of the accident, and his only worry is over what caused the crash. he has a sort of guilt complex, and wants to know if it was his fault. my advice was simple: he is better off not knowing. he does not need to feel guilty over it, nor does he need the anger and resentment over knowing that someone else put him through so much.

right now, he is off of all medication, and is only taking blood thinners for a clot that is forming in his leg. he has a few mending bones and ribs, but overall, he is fine, and i am relieved. it felt so good to hear his voice. such a difference from second hand information. it is terrible to think that someone so young and with so much more life to live may have either died or live in a persistent vegetative state.

he is going back to college tomorrow. that shocks me more than anything else. he insists that, while stressful, the mental exercise will help him recover more quickly.


in other news, football is in full swing. (American football, just so there is no confusion. i love soccer, too, but football season means only one thing: football)

I'll keep this brief: i am proud of my team. The ravens have played well so far, in spite of the massive problems that have plagued the team (injuries, two incapacitated quarterbacks, and having a rookie starting QB.) If they continue to play as well as they have been playing, I have no doubt that they will be a major contender for the post season. notice I say "post season." any person saying the actual name of the big game this early in the season is an idiot, and should be ashamed.

Last Saturday night was my high school reunion. five years has gone by rather quickly, and I now feel quite old. I was not popular in high school, mostly owing to the fact that I split my high school years between two schools, and at that age, two years is not long enough to make friends and move out of the "new kid" status. The good news is that this reunion gave me the chance to speak to some people that I never would have spoken to in school. I am always amazed at the changes that a person goes through between the ages of 16 and 25. in high school, everyone believes that they have life figured out, and yet most people have no true concept of self at that age.

in other news, have I mentioned that I broke my toe recently? I feel terrible complaining of pain in my little toe, but it actually hurts. If someone had complained to me about a similar pain a month ago, I would have laughed, but the truth is that this little bone fracture is causing me more pain that I expected. and shoes? forget it! its fine to walk on, but once I step into a shoe, the pain flares up and the swelling begins. it has been almost two weeks, and I hope the pain subsides soon.

I believe that is all of the news I have for now. stay tuned for either a posting of some artwork, or opinionated commentary on the economic status of America, depending on my mood.

as a (comical) side note, the last time I was shopping in New York, I found myself eating fantastic Swiss chocolate truffles from a place near the plaza hotel on 5th ave. I plan to visit New York again within the next month or two, perhaps I will have to treat myself again. Swiss chocolate is not my favorite, but I cannot resist that smooth, flawless texture that only Swiss chocolate has.

chocolate facts

some things i recently found out about chocolate. and we all know I love chocolate!!!

1. It is a known fact that chocolate has caffeine in it. But did you know that you would have to eat more then a dozen chocolate bars to get the same amount of caffeine from a cup of coffee? There are about 5 to 10 mg's of caffeine in one ounce of bitter chocolate, 5 mgs in milk chocolate, and 10mgs in a six-ounce cup of cocoa.

2. Chocolate is actually a valuable energy source. A single chocolate chip can provide enough energy for an adult human to walk 150 ft.

3. Chocolate has great health benefits. It helps with depression, high blood pressure, Tumors and Pre-menstrual syndromes.

4. Chocolate does not cause or aggravate acne, this is a myth.

5. One ounce of baking chocolate or cocoa contains 10% of the daily recommended intake of iron.

6. Chocolate can be deadly for dogs. Chocolate contains an ingredient called "Theobromine" which can be toxic to a dogs central nervous system and cardiac muscles.

7. People spend more than $7 billion dollars a year on chocolate.

8. The per capita consumption of chocolate indicates that each person consumes 12 pounds of chocolate each year.

9. Milk Chocolate is the most preferred type of chocolate, however dark chocolate is especially popular among men.

10. In Alfred Hitchcock's movie "Psycho" chocolate syrup was used to indicate blood in the famous shower scene.


source: http://www.infobarrel.com/10_Facts_about_Chocolate

9. Art, and, subsequently, my molskine project

little known fact about me: I paint. not only do I paint, I do all sorts of art, everything from pixels, vectors, water colors, charcoal, paper cutting, clay, acrylics, sewing, crocheting, and whatever else I can create with.

I am not vain enough to boast about my artwork, and most of it is a form of self-expression, but I have enough of an understanding about things like design and color theory to do pretty well for myself. Not to mention my love of studying art history and the different periods, styles, and masters. Ever since I could remember, I have had a brilliant eye for color. I still think I belong next to a printing press checking colors. I have a great appreciation for the subtleties of color and how pigments mix.

Lately, I have been playing with mixed media and paper cutting. I love to paint news print and create collages and paintings with it. I am forever obsessed with childish colors (not to mention painting childish subjects like my still-life of Mr. Potato Head for a painting class)

But I am just as inconsistent and lazy with my art as I am with writing (and if you read my blog, you understand exactly to what extent I am inconsistent with things that I enjoy doing...i.e. when is the last time I posted a blog?) so the problem exists that I can never make myself sit down and create something. therefore, art as neglect.

my new project is a moleskine notebook. on a whim, I bought a mini watercolor moleskine notebook, and I am trying to fill a page once a day. of course there have been gaps, but, having bought the book on 9/6/08, I have been pretty consistent, painting, sketching, or mod-podging a page almost every day so far. (we'll see how long that lasts). the best part about the book is that I can create small sketches before pulling out a canvas and spending all of my time on one big project. Big projects are daunting, so this allows me to get my ideas onto paper, and not have a mess and lost time.

not to mention, it is 100% portable. grab a brush or two, my watercolors, and the book, and im ready for a long weekend away from my desk.

So I love art, crafts, design, ect.


as a side note, perhaps i shall begin posting my moleskine pages as I finish them. hmmmm...

More lomography

The moment My very few readers have been waiting for: more pictures from my Lc-a. I now have 10 rolls of 35 mm and 3 rolls of 120 from my Holga, resulting in 200 photos uploaded to flickr (the link is somewhere to the right...) I maxed out my flickr account in one day, and now I need a pro account. But I'll wait until I need it. In the mean time, look here, or check out my flickr. If you stop by my Flickr, please leave a comment and let me know what you think.






this is Barnes and Noble at Power Plant in Baltimore.









I love this shot. one of my favorites. Dont they look peaceful?






just another one of those shots that I couldnt have done on purpose! I love those. this was taken during the month or so in which my film became jammed and I could not get it to advance. The majority of the exposures were washed out, but the ones that were not damaged were worth it!







My dad's birthday


















how sad is this?













Baltimore, new years eve 2008












My macaroni is on fire!










Nothing better than catching random, unsuspecting business men as they walk across the street!

Flacco happy!

Yes, my dear readers, I am a RAVENS FAN. And not the fair weather type, either. I am proud to say that I watched every single game last season, in spite of the horrors that befell the team.

but there is a light on the horizon this season, and he is the rookie from Delaware, Joe Flacco.

Now, im not one for stats, which is good, because, as so many sports casters have noted, he isnt flying above every other QB who played today, but he is doing well, he is improving every game, and he shows immense promise.

the best thing is that, compared to Kyle Boller, he is brilliant.

At first, i was worried about flacco having to play so much this early in his career, but after watching him play, i realize that he is not another boller. kyle bombed as far as the ravens are concerned, and everyone, myself included, said it was because he was put in too early and ruined before he had a chance to develop, but now i realize that he just wasnt what we wanted him to be.

flacco is laid back and unshakable, so far. he is calm and collected, and i noted at one point in the day that he looks almost like eli manning from afar, the way he approaches problems, and solves them without panicking or causing any sort of major problem.

Chris McAllister called him a turtle, said he just plods along. and it seems true. he doesnt get worked up to the point of freezing with the ball in his hands until someone sacks him (i called boller "sticky fingers") and he doesnt freak out until he throws away a ball that could have made it to the endzone. (another boller problem)

after having such a hard time with QBs, i am finally confident.

not to mention the way he was protected during the game today. the offensive line was put together, not a scattered bunch of bulls like the one last year. of course it helps that there are fewer injured players this season, but overall, they are working together and doing what they are supposed to do: protect the QB. nothing was worse than watching boller actually try to play well and be knocked into because of a collapsed pocket. the team seems to like flacco, and therefore they trust him and protect him. a qb cant throw a ball if he has the other team jumping all over him.


now, if we can just get heap up to par. watching him fumble and then not complete a pretty easy pass, and then lay on the field in pain today made me sad.

i dont know what to think about him. like troy said, (my troy, not troy smith) he is still really young, and shouldnt be worried about anything, but the truth is he was out most of last season with injuries, and didnt play in training camp or pre season, and now he does poorly (by his standards) on his first game back. what does this mean? poor conditioning and training due to injuries, let him get back into the game and he will be fine? or is it a bad sign?

taking the worst case scenario in mind, if todd is going to be injured and unable to perform, i would rather he retire early. i dont want to see him go out amidst humiliation. he should be allowed to retire the way that brett favre should have retired.

and dont even get me started on him. i have lost all interest and respect for him and his current media circus.


long story short: i have hope for this season, and dont want to hear any complaints from the other fans if flacco doenst perform perfectly. i hope for the best, and really, im just glad to have football season back!!!

Pasta, of all things

I have been developing a deep disgust for my fellow humans. Perhaps "countrymen" would fit better than "humans" as I am sure that the people for whom I feel the most disdain are primarily Americans.

Americans love to eat. But we dont just eat the way other people from other countries do: we eat in excess! we cant just order one meal and be happy, we have to get as much as we possibly can for our dollar. How dare we stereotype other nationalities and call them cheap or swindlers when we try to cram as much in our wallets and mouths as we possibly can.

a direct representation of this is the "Never Ending Pasta Bowl" at the Olive Garden. disgusting. for $8.95, a single person can get endless pasta, bread, and choice of endless soup or salad. thats fine, especially since the price is so low, but it just is not enough for the Americans.

Endless pasta: people literally sit and eat bowl after bowl after bowl of pasta. I am surprised that people dont regularly die of carb-shock! and as if bowl after bowl of penne, or linguine, or angelhair is not enough, add the sauce: alfredo, meat sauce, five cheese marinara! did you know that eating one portion of Olive Garden alfredo sauce is like drinking a pint of heavy cream? its true. but dont tell the corporate office I told you.

so we have the endless pasta. that should be plenty to fill up any person. It is endless.

but, that obviously isnt enough, so first they have to cram themselves with endless soup or salad. So many people ask me: "the never ending pasta comes with endless salad, right?" as if, if the salad was not included, they would not order the pasta. is it that important to have endless salad with endless pasta? and god forbid the garlic bread does not come out constantly.

how do these people eat so much?

and then complain about McDonalds having such calorie loaded food!!!

You can probably eat five Big Macs for the caloric intake of the five cheese ziti at Olive Garden. I'm serious.

so my new complex is this: I cannot watch people eat without feeling queasy. It is fine if i am sitting down in the resturant and eating and am able to ignore the people around me, but as a server, watching the guests mindlessly stuff themeselves into a food-induced coma disgusts me.

Have you ever seen Casper, the one with Christina Ricci? the scene where the three ghosts are eating breakfast and all of the food is just falling on the floor...thats what i imagine when i am at work and serve people their food. it literally makes me sick.

and the bicker over the smallest price change. the Never Ending Pasta Bowl, like i said, costs 8.95. that is almost $1 more than a lunch portion of pasta. yet people complain that it is expensive! how, i ask you, is endless amounts of pasta, 75 bowls of pasta, if you wish, expensive at $9? how can people take themselves that seriously?

and then there is the lack of manners. We consider ourselves advanced, ahead of other countries, yet we have no table manners. NONE. we shout at the table, answer cell phones in the middle of dinner, allow our children to literally throw food in resturants, much less run around the resturant and then get upset when the server trips on the little brat and spills hot food on them.

and we chew with our mouth open, stuff our mouths till food is over flowing down our chin. then we speak to the server (who we treat like a dog and snap our fingers at) with full mouths. heres a news flash, america: most servers are college students, or college graduates trying to get a new job. I.E. they probably have a higher degree than you do and are usually smarter than you. dont treat them like infants.

i need to get out of the resturant industry. hopefully I'll get a call back from one of my applications soon. the food service industry depresses me.

summer is over

well, summer is over, and while i dont have to go back to school because of that beautiful milestone we call "graduation" I still have a feeling of lost time. I think i wasted my summer. I am not sure yet what happens after summer when there is no school. It is uncharted territory. I have never had school-less post-summer activities.

maybe i should just start doing things that i put off doing all summer. perhaps, if i continue to allow my time to waste away, the rest of my life will turn into a wasted summer.

i have a new appreciation for the usefulness of school.

even if the work is boring or useless in itself, it is still soemthing that is to be done, and the assignments and subsequent deadlines are helpful.

so, since i didnt do half of what i wanted to do this summer, here are the ten things i wanted to do, and will try to do, even though it is no longer summer:

actually...lets be more optimistic. i'll start with things that i feel that i have accomplished, and then move on to what i want to do:

accomplished this summer:
1. decided to get married. picked the venue, colors, flowers, theme, ect.
2. re-upholstered a chair, my first experiment in re-upholstering. success.
3. wrote a single poem.
4. blogged. not alot, but enough to constitute having blogged.
5. went on many job interviews.
6. applied for countless jobs.
7. read a few books.
8. made a purse...that i am going to send to Heather because she likes it.
9. did some fun kitchen-type experiments.
10. played tennis and exercised. lost some weight

now, that isnt very reassuring, but here are the things i should have done, and will try to do:
1. get a job. successfully. and therefore make money.
2. paint some stuff. like canvases. why have i not painted this summer?
3. write something else. anything. story, poem, something.
4. read more.
5. keep a doodle blog. i am starting it today.
6. try linolium printing.
7. be more active, i.e. be more consistent with tennis and walks. even jog? maybe?
8. go to a concert soon. the lack of music is disheartening.
9. actually get married, move into new place, and start that whole aspect of life.
10. cook more.

there. now there are lists, that means everything will be easier, right? self-help books always say "start with a list" but i disagree. lists are a waste of time. you spend so much time making the list that you never check things off.

but they make me feel better. if nothing else, i have accomplished the list part of the activity.

I have begun to have a written pen-pal. a friend of mine moved to Chicago last week, and we have decided to actually try to keep in touch with that archaic method: snail mail. what a brilliant idea for a back formation. we never needed "snail mail" until "email" was invented. remember when "email" had a hyphen? been a while, hasnt it? remember when the "i" in apple products stood for "internet"? who would have thought that the internet would literally take over the world?

anyway, so I wrote my first letter to Heather (chicago chick) today. and i was suprised at how strange it felt to not have things like "delete/backspace" and a spell checker. I am a big advocate for writing things out before typing. even my papers in school were all written by hand before i typed them. i believe that the thought process is different, and that by combining writing with typing, you get the benefit of both processes. but mos of those written papers were just drafts, so i never had to worry about anyone else reading them. i always fell back on spell check and the ability to easily delete. i need to write more by hand. such an odious task...since when has writing become a chore to me?

a room with a view

"it all was a nothing, and a man was a nothing too"

I have had so much trouble reading this summer. I cant decide if it is because my body is still burnt out from school, or if it has something to do with my lack of health insurance and need for new glasses. at any rate, I have tried again and again to read the books that i have been waiting my entire college life to read, but have never had the time to read. i had big plans: read all of those books i have never been able to find the time for, like farewell to arms, catch22, the brothers karamazov, and many others. ive tried everything. i started some grimms fairytales, and couldnt get through more than one, i even tried to re-read some of my favorite jane austen books, and couldnt do it. when, in my life, have i not been able to read sense and sensability and enjoy it?

so what has happened is one of those strange instances in which i feel as though i have read more books than i actually have. i am a very well-read individial, having covered many of the philosophers, most of the victorian classics, as well as a great deal of the romantics, and even modern, post modern, and contemporaries. but now, after picking up one book, reading the first two pages, forgetting about it, and doing the same thing to a new book the following week, i now have the "did i already read this" syndrome.

there is something to be said about the first line, and subsequent first page of a story. it is the deciding factor, really, when choosing a book to read. if the first line does not grab the reader, the story will not be read (unless it is for school, and god knows how many bad first lines i have read just because it was in a book required by some horriffic professor for some painful class)

the first line is a "so what" of sorts, the reader gets the chance, right at the beginning, to demand of the writer: "why should i spend my time on this? is it even worth it?" and if the author does not provide a satisfactory answer, the reader has the choice to give up and use the book as a place holder on a dusty book shelf until it eventually makes it into the goodwill pile next month.

all of that is beside the point, though. my point right now is that, while i cannot remember ever reading A room with a view, I am having trouble believing myself. i recognize the opening scene. have i read it, or was it a one-page read that was abandoned for some valid reason? did i have to put it down to make time for required reading? did i just not feel up to it at the time? did i abhor it after those significant first lines?


or did i actually read it, and will i remember the whole plot half-way through and be frustrated, but still feel the need to finish it anyway?

and Jane Eyre, why can I never remember how it ends? i know i have read it multiple times, yet i do not remember the ending....i never do, not until i get to the last page, time and time again.

i need to start keeping notes. why did i stop writing in my novels?


oh, because i'm slightly obsessive compulsive when it comes to my books. thats right.

well, on this recent read, the first few lines were pleasing, and have left me with a bit of curiosity, so i am going to give the book another try. it better put out. or at least put me to sleep.

i feel like i am constantly catching up with my blog...

after years, literally like five years, of searching for my best friend that i lost contact with, I finally found her. thank the internet gods for myspace. i hate myspace, but i must admit that it has its uses every now and again. she called me tonight, and we spoke over the phone until my phone died and shut off!!! and it was just like old times! no strange awkwardness, no stuttering, no problems. awesome!

by the by, it is freezing cold in maryland today. and by freezing cold, i mean that in the middle of august i wore a hoodie at noon today and was still cold. fyi: maryland augusts are usually mid 90s to 100 degrees on average. it reached a high of 61 degrees near my house today. maybe al gore is right. the environment is angry at us. i would like to personally thank the environment for making the day so beautiful. a rare break in summer heat is always welcomed, though i must express my fear of the coming fall and winter...


in other news, I am planning a wedding reception. because my mother has religious views that are not quite my own, troy and I have decided in a not-yet-engaged way to start planning our wedding. we are going to fly to the dominican republic and have a private ceremony on the beach, and then have a reception at home. lots of money. more money than i care to think about. it is turning out to be expensive because, incase you were not aware of it, Maryland is the "richest" state in the country, and therefore our cost of living is outrageous. a wedding venue that would cost 3,000 in, say, tennessee, would cost 7,000 anywhere in maryland. sucks. and since i am having my dream wedding on a beach, i feel the need to cut corners on the reception. and its not like i am an extravagant person. (you, reader, obviously read my blog, you can probably tell how un-extravagant i am) i like simple and elegant, not expensive and over-done.

I have always wanted a huge wedding, ever since i was a little girl (what little girl doesnt?) but now that i am finally at that point in my life, i find that big parties are not my style. i want to make my own invitations from scratch, and have brilliant ideas about centerpieces and flower arrangements. i guess personalization is better than extravagance. stay tuned for the next few months for pictures of my wedding crafts.

in the mean time, i have a job interview next friday. im not gonna say where, but the job, if i get it, will involve just the right amount of money to make this whole wedding thing a bit easier. I am nervous. it is with one of those companies that one cant help but be nervous about. this is the shot, if i dont get this one, i feel like i'll never get a job. but that is negative thinking, so lets move onto something more positive.

i am having a creativity freeze lately. i think wedding research has taken all of my life over. makes me glad i dont have a good job at this point...at least i have lots of free time to do the leg work that i would otherwise have to fit into my day. with all of the time and research and stress and what not that i am putting into my wedding planning, i am getting nowhere with paint or writing. (thus the lack of blogging) so i am going to try to write something later. i did manage a poem a few weeks ago. it isnt the best, and it is only rough draft material right now, but here it is for your reading pleasure. i will leave you with the poem and an empty promise that i will blog again soon.



Sticky, crust-rimmed morning
7/6/08


Fog,
like the Specter of dwindling dreams,
is hovering

just beyond my window.
Every yawn prods it
further and farther
from my reach,
Unrolling fields and trees
and roads and buildings
and cities and oceans and
every mundane chore of the day.

hope

i was watching hopkins with troy tonight, and in light of recent events in my sphere of life, I was particularly struck by tonights episode.

first, a shameless plug for the show: "Hopkins" is not a reality tv show, it is actually a documentary about real patients and real doctors and about one of the best, most well-known hospitals in the world. all of the drama is real, it is real life and death, no producers stirring up trouble by putting a black gay guy and white supremacist in a hotel room together. it is one of the few things on television that i actually respect. (that is not to say that i dislike everything on television, we all know how i feel about scrubs..and south park.... but i actually respect hopkins as a representation of what is actually important in life, and not as a form of entertainment.)

thats out of the way....

on tonights episode, a young girl, 9 or so, fell into a pool at a party, and almost drowned. the poor thing lost the majority of her brain fuction, and dr. carson...yes THE dr. carson (who is a seventh day adventist, btw. how do we feel about that?) told the parents that she was not quite brain dead, but that she would never resume normal function or live off of life support.

the parents replied (understandably) that they could not take her off of life support because they dont want to murder their daughter. my problem is this: where have we come up with the idea that by taking someone off of life support, that we are killing them? what if there had been no life support? the first and most vital function of the brain is to keep the body working. if the brain cannot do that, then the body should die. that is nature, that is how our bodies are designed. now, i understand the parent's feelings, i really do. i know i would feel the same way, to a certain extent. especially with a child's life being at stake. but why do we feel that pulling that plug is playing god? is it any more playing god than taking a heart from a dead person and making another person live with it? is it any different than performing cpr?

the poor little girl eventually became completely brain dead, and was taken off of the support, and i feel that is probably the best for all parties involved. but will the parents feel inadequate for the rest of their lives because they "let" her die?

i guess it all comes down to control. we cannot control the weather, but we try to control everything else.



right now, i am worried about a friend of mine. we have no way of knowing yet how severe his brain damage will be. he just woke up from a 3-week coma. he is 21, and the strongest, most stubborn person i know. it has played with my mind lately, wondering what a person is made to live through horrible circumstances for. in hospitals, they have phrases like broccoli...meaning that a person is in a persistant vegitative state. not to say that my friend will end up like that, but for those millions of people on the planet who are in that state, why? in past eras, those people would have died a natural, death, not hung on through tons of money and painful surgery and life support. where is the line between person and body? is it right to keep a person alive if we know they could never survive without the respiratior, or without the constant care of a person?

how much of it is keeping our own conscience clean? how much is it the doctors who get a pay check from insurance companies and reposessed houses that used to belong to these people?

and the real questions:

how much would i want to be sustained through? would i want my loved ones to suffer a short time for losing me, or would i rather they spend all of their time and money in a hospital room with me even if i dont know they are there?

i dont believe that these questions have a right or wrong answer, but, like everything else, they tear my mind assunder when they actually break the surface and float among my other fears and worry.

on a more positive note, i am hopeful. i am also glad that there are so many things to be happy about that even the most tragic and terrible events only last long enough to make me think and therefore improve myself through introspection. is that selfish? no, i think its how life is supposed to be. of we were all supposed to feel every ounce of suffering and injustice all the time, we would know nothing but pain. and there is so much more to life than pain, or at least i like to think there is.


i have a new appreciation for those people i do not see enough of.

the answer, my friend...

I FINALLY have my degree. UB took entirely too long to get things sorted out, but i picked up the actual certificate yesterday, and it is much smaller than i expected. i'm pretty excited to have it, though, regardless of size.

some observations:

there really is no reason for the MVA to make so much money on tags and licenses and what not! 120$ is a little outrageous! i am sick of "the man" taking advantage of people where they have no choices. for example: movie prices can go up because people have the ability to choose whether or not to see a movie, same thing with things like furniture and high-end cars. but to raise the price on things like clothes and food is ridiculous. the basic things needed to sustain human life should be avaliable to all human beings. like health care. how can a doctor charge over $400 for a hospital visit in which they spent a total of 10 minutes in the patient's room? (can you tell that this is personal now?) health care should be free, but the problem is that the majority of people who have the ability to make a difference in the fight for universal health care do not care.

think about it. the people who have health care and have always had it are worried that by giving everyone else healthcare, they will have to wait for treatment, and will have to share their doctors and hospitals and oncology labs and mri machines with the population as a whole. why would they want that? why add lines and waiting lists when they already have it fine.

take away their health insurance, let them suffer for a while, and see what they think.

i used to not care. i was as ignorant of the whole problem and exactly how big it is until, as a full time student living with my parents, my insurance provider sent me a letter 5 months after my birthday telling me that my insurance had already been cancelled without my knowing it.

i wonder when i drive now, what if i get into a major accident? is it possible to be in a coma and refuse an air-lift? what if i have a terminal illness right now, but because i have no health care, i have no way of finding out.

i am not a paranoid person by nature, but while i search for a job, i have to worry. every little ache and pain and symptom suddenly blows out of proportion and into cancer, typhoid, tb, pancreitis, appendicitis, and staph. i felt nauseous a few days ago. sure, there is a virus going around that i cannot be diagnosed or treated for, but in my mind, it could be eboli.

we, the middle and upper class, look at the uninsured, lower class as lazy members of an infamously ignorant and uneducated whole: as a group of miscrients who could dig themselves out of their caste if they wanted to bad enough. but now i know that it is not true.

people are trapped by our systems. our education system, our healthcare system, our thought system. we have dug a hole that is just as big as the mass graves the nazis dug, and yet we blame the people that we have shoved into the hole.


how many times must a cannon ball fire?

lots going on in life

so I finally have job prospects. however, I cant say where. no, really, I cant. i'm not being mysterious.

anyway, it looks like it is going to be a long process, lots of interviews and phone calls, but totally worth it.

troy also seems to have some exciting job updates, things are finally looking up.

The Dark Knight came out today. I wanted to go to the midnight showing, but i got a little lazy and didnt get tickets early. but i'm seeing it tonight!!! I have been waiting for this for a year or two...maybe three? i dont remember what year the last one came out.

artscape tomorrow!!!! that means I need to get some film. I am determined to use up the last few shots on my holga and then retire it for a little while. 120 film is a little too expensive and annoying for my liking lately, so i am gonna stick with the lca.

we'll see.

some more lomo

So here they are. I have finally posted some more of my lomo pictures. these are all lc-a pics, i'll get some more holgas up later, but i must first confess that i have not been using my holga as much as i would like. 120 film is just to hard to work with without a dark room. not only is it more expensive than 35m, it is crazy expensive to process. i once spent 29$ on a roll that turned out completely black because they were night shots, and the lab person pushed them through and corrected them, and didnt let the machine process the tiny bits of light i had captured on purpose. not to mention all of the labs in my area are a pain in my ass.

so, like i said, holgaing shall wait.

in the mean time, these first pics are from gettysburg. living so close makes it a good place for some creepy pics. actually, i'll be heading to g-burg today!!! how exciting.









i honestly didnt expect this shot to turn out. its hard to get used to film after growing up in the age of didgital point and shoots. im not used to committing to a shot and waiting to process it before i know what works. so these are grave markers of the unknown bodies of soldiers.









how eerie? and yet beautiful. i love the white stones all around the perimeter of the grave yard. and i love, even more, how my lc-a picked up the green!!!!










here is troy :) the first night i got my lca. it was an accident. I had just put the film in, had no idea what was going on, and i captured a pretty ghastly pic of him playing with his camera.












a certain resivoir near home. believe it or not, the sun is the bright spot on the right. the one on the left is a rainbow and its reflection in the water!!! it looks like some result of the camera, but it is literally sun and rainbow. it was even more cool in person.





and a blurry xmas pic...it looks so 1980!











stay tuned. there are so many more. these are just a random few from the 8 rolls i already have scanned, out of the 15 or so that i have taken. i might reinstate flicker, just so i can use more space. google is stingy with its 1G of space across programs. I'm lately a lazy memeber of lomography.com, so maybe once i have my "lomohome" (who comes up with this stuff?) put together, I'll post a link. either way, i love showing my pics off, so i have to do something, right?

promises are like snowflakes-forgotten as soon as they melt.

i specifically remember telling this blog that i would not neglect it after graduation. (and, incase i didnt remember saying it, i can at least read it 3 posts ago) I feel bad for telling such a terrible lie to a blog that has been nothing but polite and receptive to me. i will not promise it again, that would be like promising to hold down the shift key when i type "i"; it wont happen, no matter how hard i try.

but i will try my best to keep up with it. i find that i am a better person when i blog, and that i get more done. lately, i have done nothing of substance...unless you count my attempt at chineese paper cutting. here is my cheap photobooth picture of it because i dont feel like scanning it right now, or getting out my camera. i'm pretty pleased with it, but only as a beginning.

which brings me to my fixative rant. So I bought a can of prismacolor fixative last year for a design class (fun with mounting posters and stationary on black board stuff!!!) and have only used half of the can. now, a year or so later, the fixative has no tacky-ness to it.why? infuriating. i may write to the company and demand an explanation. politely.

in the mean time, i had a chick with an umbrella that needed mounting. so, as an impatient person who could not wait until i made it to an art store to buy another can (of a better brand, obviously) i had to find an alternative...and any artsy person will tell you that, other than duct tape, the only other emergency option, and general fixer of crisises, is Modge-Podge. thats right, i used modge-podge. my thinking is that the poor paper-cut was only a trial, and not worthy of waiting, or of a special trip to the store. is it right to favor one piece of art over another? should they not be treate equally, regardless of time spent, and general happiness with outcome? is not all art a reflection of self, or feeling, or some such thing that should not be judged or ranked? is it like favoring the thumb of my right had to that of my left hand? all is part of me....

regardless, I was not going to make a special trip to the store for it. modge-podge it had to be.


in other news, i am still looking for a job. i feel that i will perpetually look for jobs. thank the internet gods for craigslist.


stay tuned for a post featuring more lomo pics. i have quite a few that i am quite fond of. i make no promises as to timing and speed, but i do promise that they will eventually make it here. what else have i to do anyway, jobless as i am?


it is safe to say, then, that, barring the acquisition of a good job, the pictures should be posted soon.

interview

I have a job interview tomorrow. I'm pretty excited. My first real interview. I don't quite know what to expect, though. The position is supposed to start on June 9, which makes me a little worried. I have never had to impress anyone with myself, only with my writing and skills. I know I'm not the most professional sort of person, I am a bit too casual for my own good some times, but I like to think that my casual-ness makes me easier to relate to.

I know I can make myself sound better than I am, but I also wonder, if I land a really good job, will I be able to stay afloat? Am I actually qualified, I am able to do what a job entails? Is it any different from school? I guess it all depends on the job.

The interview is for a medical non-profit. That worries me a little bit. I am not used to being in a medically professional environment. Will I work with medical-ish scienc-y people? or my own type? I work well with all types of people, but I am not a white-walls type of person.


Even more exciting news, I finally saw a pdf of the issue of the Baltimore Sun with Welter in it. It is in the Sunday edition, May 18, under Voices in the Idea's section. pretty awesome. and my cover is printed in full color. thats kinda amazing. It shows how much they must have loved the cover. I feel like my work was really worth the trouble and stress.


I also got my grades. all A's. Summa Cum Laude, officially.


I guess life isnt as bad as it seems sometimes. Even if I dont get this job tomorrow, at least it was a reply back. Someone actually read my resume and thought it was worth something. And if one company feels that way, then there are others that might too.


I would be a bit nervous about accepting the first job I interview for, but as I was thinking about it earlier, I realized that it is pretty damn impressive, as a job goes. They offereall of the things I need, and boast a "competetive salary" which is better than most job listings. If I was offered the job, I think I would take it. someone told me yesterday: it is easier to find a new job once you already have one. I agree. and if the job is as good as it sounds/looks on paper, then it would be stupid of me to turn it down. Perhaps I am getting ahead of myself. Perhaps I should be so sure of myself. but I guess I should at least consider the possibility that someone might be impressed with me.


I am going to brush up on my copy-editing skills. See if I really can remember the skills I havnt used in a year or so. :)


if you want to see more info on Welter, or read the article in the sun, here is the link:

http://welter.ubalt.edu/welter/welcome.html

real world begins....tomorrow

I guess I should blog about this momentous occasion. Tomorrow I begin to enter the "real world." I would argue that I have already entered it, but I guess it is official once i flip my tassel. I will graduate along with 450 other students. I guess it is an accomplishment. I do not feel any sense of accomplishment. I wish graduation was like completing a level of super mario, with the flag pole and the castle and the fireworks. At least, even if it was an easy level that you had to complete just to get to another level, at least it was exciting when you climbed to the top of the random steps because you still had to jump to the flag pole, and it was so awesome if you actually got to the top of the pole and came down with the flag.

to me, graduation is like being so cool that you actually managed, by some flaw in the game, to jump clear over the pole, and got no recognition for it, and then had to jump on the pole from the other side, and only got 200 points for something that was clearly worth a million.

maybe no one else had that experience as a kid. but thats what it feels like.

i guess it comes down to how i have waited so long for graduation, and have always seen it as just another thing to get to, that it isnt exciting. I am not sad to leave UB, i was not terribly attached to any aspect of college life. I dont feel like there is a whole world open to me now, i actually feel that all of my opportunities and possibilities are at a dead end. I am a very good student, but am i good at anything else? will anyone even give me the opportunity to see what I can do?

the best thing i can do is to go to sleep. if i have to walk across a stage in front of a thousand or so people, at least i should do it without looking like the bride of Frankenstein.

Update

Dear blog,

I am sorry that I have neglected you these few months. I promise, that I will be more steady in my affection, and will show you the love that I have hither-to withheld.

In the elapsed time since last we spoke, I published a magazine. Welter. I spent quite a bit of time on it, and now it is finished, and I hold a copy of it in my hand. A major accomplishment.

I am getting a new kitty cat today. and by kitty cat, I mean OS. Leopard. with its stacks and spaces and previews and time machine and grassy bg and new icons.

I turn 23 shortly. really shortly. like Tuesday shortly.

I graduate shortly. not as shortly, but like next Wednesday shortly.


and then i move onto that frightening "real world"

I will need all of the love from my blog that I can get. Therefore, the neglect stops here.

or at least stops after I finish all of my papers that I am procrastinating on.

hello, blog

things are a bit crazy. havnt posted in a while. I dont know why i apologize for it since no one ever reads this, but there it is.

welter. oh, god...WELTER. the magazine is taking over my free time, along with the new hbo series john adams. the series is amazing, and welter is only going to own my life for another week.


sadly, my blog ends here because i feel guilty using my spare time for something as frivolous as a blog when there is a deadline to be met.

i feel like im cheating on welter or something. i hope it doesnt find out.

self-fulfilling prophecy

i am so sick of waiting on other people. my impatience on this particular occasion is brought to you by the Welter staff who are not doing what needs to be done so that my life is not miserable next week.

i have to fit a month's worth of work into one week, and i had no idea that that was the case until this weekend. press day is april23 and i have no cover art, no written work, much less author bios, order of appearance, or logo. now, if this was my magazine, and i could take care of all of that myself, it would be done by now. but no...i have to wait for a democratic decision on cover art that is apparently not even created yet. i also have to wait for 5 people to proof 43 stories, essays, and poems. they are supposed to have them to me by the 17, and as of yet, they havnt looked at them. i have to wait for someone to tell me that i can go ahead and create a logo, but that logo has to depend on the cover art that i dont have. how can i figure out how to incorporate the cover in the layout without first seeing the cover?

this impatience has extended to disliking people who do not immediately respond to text messages, phone calls that are not picked up on the first ring, being left waiting for a response on ichat, especially when the other person is the one who started the conversation, traffic, sitting in class and listening to a lecture when there are so many other things i would rather be doing with my time, havint to write papers instead of reading a book that i would love to read, slow windows computers in the computer lab at school, being in front of, behind, next to, or within a 50 mile radius of a cop while driving, email, having to be nice to people because they are in my class, when i would rather be in charge so that i can enforce the rules and deadlines in a way that ensures they will be done, not being in a position to step on toes when necessary, and having to move from my bed to my desk to connect my macbook to my external harddrive. thats it, for my birthday, i want some sort of wireless or bluetooth external!!!

why do all of my feelings become clear after i leave?

i dont even know what to type. i had all kinds of good things planned for this blog: some social commentary, some discussion of what constitutes anger and what a quarterlife crisis really is.


but the sad truth is that i have an overpowering sense of rage that is pent up inside of me. there is no way to let it out. none. and i think that is what is wrong with everything in the world. we are so suppressed and restricted. we have to worry about hurting the feelings of people we love, and people we dont love, and we need to make sure we dont do anything that will ruin people's good opinion of us, or change anyone's perspective of us. destruction of property is illegal. detruction of people is immoral and illegal. trowing things is frowned upon, i havnt screamed...actually yelled or screamed and raised my voice since middle school. hitting a tennis ball isnt very satisfying if you arent good at it.



there is no outlet for the rage and pent up emotion i am struggling with.


we have reached victorian england again. we are quakers. we are fucking pilgrims who burn people at the stake for feeling.



and i hate it.


even the word hate has no meaning now. i hate many things: onions, ignorant people, religious pamphlets, crying, my job. but saying that i hate them does not express fully how i feel. nothing can.


feelings are static. they change, but they cannot effect change.


thats why some kid beat her teacher, and two kids beat each other with hockey sticks. thats why so many people are killed daily. because god, or whatever else is responsible for this shit hole decided to eff with us and give us these feelings, but no way to contain, control, or outlet them.

and i am sick of it. perhaps i should give up on worrying about what people think, and hurting feelings. maybe i should stop letting myself feel shitty. perhaps i should look to hurt people. then i would be normal in the eyes of society.


i wish my mouth could open as wide as anatomically possible, but i have a restricting divice psychologically. damn morals and caring.

just because you cant see it...

i cant decide if it is because we, the people who write, are so caught up in our own lives, or if it has something to do with the irregular way life seems to happen lately, dotting time with strange instances and too much rape and pain for the world to breathe healthily again. i'm not certain if it is a trend, or a permanent ocurance, and i sure as hell cant figure out if it is happening all over the globe, or just in the tiny whore-house that is the charles royal building at my particular university.

but the truth, mapped out in so many fonts on too many pages to read in an hour, is that fiction has faded into a fifth genre. if the first is poetry, and the second is drama, and the third is fiction and the fourth is essay, then the fifth is that slurry line between fiction and essay, a fraction of writing, if you will, where the inexperienced writer writes about him or herself and tells a life story, plays with form, and labels it as fiction when it is actually memoir.

everything has become memoir. of all of the fiction submissions to the welter literary journal, only two are actually fiction and not memoir, one of which is mine.


where has fiction gone? has the imagination finally given in and admitted that it cant keep up with how screwed up life really is? or are all of the characters on vacation? living in a place where storys are written about fluffy kitty cats and unicorns? maybe theyre waiting like the romanticists did for the world to turn itself upright again and for the rain to stop falling up. gravity has to take over again and set things right.


in the mean time, do we let them go on thinking that memoir is fiction? perhaps they just dont see the difference, or cant believe what has happened to them. it must have happened to this character that has assigned itself a first person omniscient point of view with which to tell a true story in disguise as fiction.


at least there are submissions. amd im not complaining, im just happy to be around to see it happen. the genre that was not a genre 15 years ago, that is only now being accepted by the literary big wigs, is taking over like it owns the joint, building a work out room in the old nursery and tearing out the flower beds that old aunt eudora took so much pride in. It plans to open up some windows and air out the rooms, finally get rid of the smell of cigar smoke from grandpa earnest and uncle charles. but the carpet hasnt changed, and no one will ever knock down the giant oak in the front yard or dry up virginia's lake.

manifesto for one's purpose

i like to think that there is a purpose to everything that every individual does. if not, then bring on the brave new world. but as a dreamer, i cant settle for what i get.

I have never been so deeply moved, disturbed, actually, by any class I have ever taken. My contemporary Literature class is slowly driving me crazy.

In the class, we are studying the common themes and concepts behind literature of all genres written in the past 20 years.

common themes include:
1. failure of a character to connect with other characters
2. inability to show emotion
3. disconnection with the world
4. rape, hate, crime, psychotic behavior, abuse, distrust, ect.
5. death
6. the acceptance of the inevitable, example: death is part of life, death makes life
7. the down side of liberation movements
8. selfishness
9. mistrust, and why mistrust is intelligent
10. the lack of value in love and human relationships
11. lack of hope
12. loss of faith, innocence, life, meaning

all of these topics are things that surface in one way or another throughout current writing.


as a writer (i.e., one who writes) I am discouraged. I never thought of my writing as adhering to any of the topics above, and yet I see, after looking at my writing through the lense of contemporary literature, that my writing is overflowing with many of those things.


After some consideration, I see that I have fallen into the trap of becoming a product of my environment. I write what I see and live through. I write about the ugliness of the human race. The downfall of education, the inevitability of death, and politics. I write about the same things that other people write about.


I cant allow myself to believe that this period in which I live will be defined as a theory of literature hundreds of years from now. Students will take some archaic class that covers my contemporaries. perhaps, instead of the Victorian, modern, post modern, renaissance, Marxist, structuralist, classical, post colonialism, semiotic, or new historicism, we will be called the "hopelessists" or "destructionists"

is there any way to change that? no. literature and art reflect the time in which it is created, but also change the time. Picasso painted in a time of great turbulence, and so his painting was chaotic. "guernica" is a perfect example. He painted a war in the most chaotic, and color-symbolic way he could. his painting reflected the war the way the war created the painting. literature is the same way. literature reflects the time, but also changes how people think.


I wish I could be so brave to think that I could change the way literature works. perhaps, in my own small way, I could.


after waking up at 4am this morning from a bad dream, i decided to consciously change my writing.

for a long time, i viewed writing as something that is very much a part of the self. i still think that way, but i understand that, like the self, writing must undergo change. static writing is boring and useless. so i want to change my writing to still follow the way of my contemporaries (because i have no choice in the matter, mostly) but in a way that allows hope.

I am at a point in my life where i refuse to settle into this American hopelessness. I cant do it. I cant look at the world as something ugly and full of hatred. I am a dreamer, and as such, i need to believe that there is a purpose, that there is meaning, that life is not defined by the absence of death.

I cant give up on hoping that the world is beautiful.


I want to write the way I want to think. but when the world around me is going to hell and people are becoming more hateful and self-centered, selfish, disconnected, i need to hang on to what i have and what i know to be possible.

I want to surround myself with beautiful things. I want to write beautiful things.


i cant avoid writing about how ugly the world is, because the world i live in is ugly. no way around it. and a story without conflict is a story without change, is a story without a story, is a story without purpose. i cant write empty stories. everything i write, fiction, nonfiction, poetry, or even expository writing, has to have a purpose. I have no time for stories about a cute little kitty or unicorns. i despise fiction about empty subjects.


i want my writing to have the weight of lead, but also a sense of hope. damn the contemporaries for creating a world of writing where denouement is not part of the plot line. nothing should end without some sort of resolution. i see the point of doing things that way, but it is sloppy, and it doesnt leave hope. there needs to be hope. i will not live in a world that has no hope.


so, i have thought about my writing and what i want to experiment with next. what is writing if not experimentation? i change my style every time i edit a story, why not change my style in terms of content? forget adding imagery and poetic device. i want to change my place in literary history. not that i expect to become part of literary history, but i feel that i need to take into account that my writing may (if i am lucky) one day reach beyond the small circle i live in. and if it does, god willing, what will people say about it. where will i fit? writing is something that can easily become a legacy. music is too plagued with luck, and art is too critical, but writing is a possibility for recognition, especially posthumously. the editor of the urbanite said that the first thing you have to do to become one of the greats is not to write fantastic pieces, but to give up the obsession you have with air. who knows where my writing will take me, or where it will go without me. but if it goes even as far as one small college lit magazine, or as far as the new yorker, or to whole books, or just my own portfolio, i do not want to be lumped into the same burlap sack with those who write about a lack of hope. they are dragging us down just as much as the topics they write about.


so. i want to write some stories where the situation is serious and the suffering is great, but the setting and description downplay it. i want to use that hemmingwayish understatement to hide the importance of the situation and to focus on the setting and characters. he was a master. perhaps he was much more ahead of his time than we thought.

I dont pretend that i will ever become a great writer, or that i will even be recognized for my writing. i actually doubt that i will. but the point is that i need to look at my writing more seriously, or else i have wasted my degree before i have even gotten it. and in that sense, i need to write something that makes me feel as though i have done something good. and if writing a story every now and then that has a little bit of beauty and hope in it is as far as i can go, then thats all i'll ever need.

the aforementioned poetry:

Hole in the Wall

A speck with depth
just a minor hiccup
on the smooth surface of institution.
A fissure of change trapped
within a cinder block prison.

Walls have to breathe too—
inhaling carbon dioxide thoughts
moist with scraps of textbook regurgitation.

If the school was a ship
our education would sink;
drown
one drip
at
a
time.




Edward Hopper Hotel Room Ekphrasis
(form was lost in online translation, sorry)

broccoli chair,
cherry dresser,
banana walls,
asparagus carpet

sheets

like the meat
of a coconut
freshly
crac ked
dri
p
p
i
n
g
with
milk.



International Terminal

His knuckles drain
pale and drip
with nervous response
to the reverberation of combat
boots trudging across
a crisp linoleum desert
scattered with camouflaged
tumble-weed bags.
Thirsty wives and dessicated mothers
muster cheek-to-cheek
to drink in the last
drops of rain




Presidential Vacation Pantoum

How do you live
in a yacht on the lake,
playing with toys
while the country suffers?

In a yacht on the lake
you govern the world
while the country suffers
and others fight your war.

You govern the world
and destroy the country.
Others fight your war
and they’re still fighting.

Destroy the country.
The children are soldiers
and they’re still fighting
a useless war.

The children are soldiers,
but you don’t care.
A useless war
is money in your pocket.

You don’t care
that cities are burning
money in your pocket
as people die.

Cities are burning
how do you live
as people die?
Play with your toys.



Some Poems Become Baggage

Some concepts bog down the mind
and thwart thoughts
from following their instinct
like the scent of cheese to the end of a maze.
To recuperate,
some stanzas must be hemmed
with scratches and eraser smudges.

Some lines make better

space

than Erector-set words protected by Lojack.

Some words might
sound good
and look pretty

but encumber the moment
like a sopping sponge.



Maryland Avenue

The parking meter flashes green, and mounds
of fresh reflection flank the sides, standing
like sentinels to an invaded door
deprived of dignity; its shattered window
destroyed by selfishness. The seat is left
exposed to wind, or rain, or prying eyes
with sticky, prying hands. A lump of grey
hoodie entraps the seat and pleads: “I’m still
in class. I still believe my car is safe.”
But on the center console, chiseled out
of murky travel dust, a palm-sized
rectangle draws the borders of the place
where music used to live. Remaining is
a tangled, white, electric artery.




Coach

Primped for market,
embroidered, branded, and buckled
bovine pose on glass pedestals
surrounded by mirrors.

Patched with pieces of snake
or zebra or snow leopard,
each cut of veal
tastes of exotic fashion.

Skirted ladies laced in gold
admire hides of dyed
pink or baby blue suede
sows with silver stitching.

Mint or white or bright red
patent leather doesn’t squeal
when tucked beneath a cashmere’d arm
and stuffed with money.

8. Writing

perhaps this one should be closer to the top of the list. Actually, it should be number two. I will not change it though, for I have a love-hate relationship with my writing.

I love to write more than I love to eat.

But writing is never easy, and has landed me in a dead-end cardboard box-major where I will graduate without a job and make no money.

I think that I am a good writer (dont judge me by my lazy blogging habits, please) but so are the thousands of other writers out there. My age, younger, older, working, unemployed, in college, published, not published, afraid to show their work. Too many writers.

Nothing is worse than when someone judges you as a good writer and asks you to read their writing. "be honest"

but it sucks, and if you tell them honestly that the writing needs work, they get defensive, and all of a sudden you must not know what you're talking about.

But lets not forget about the release. Thats why I blog, isnt it? I think so. Like finally getting to a bathroom after walking for a few miles with two cups of coffee in your bladder. its like spring cleaning for your mind.

I have a problem with fighting or having serious discussions with people. Unless I write my thoughts out first, I feel as though they never come out right. I have to write them first. I think through my hands.

I hate people who write stories and essays and poetry on the computer. It is called writing for a reason. Not typing. it shouldnt be done. it uses a whole different hemisphere of your brain. its the difference between preparing food and making food. between betty crocker and from scratch.


I think I shall post a second blog. I have not posted poetry to this blog before, have I? I dont think I have. Perhaps I shall. Lots of poems from last semester that I have just finished revising. I dont know if theyre done now or not.

7. Asheville/"hope"

my recent gallops across the internet have landed me on a flicker site belonging to a photographer from Asheville North Carolina. Have you ever been somewhere, or passed through a place and fallen completely in love with everything about it? Troy, Jeremy, and I visited Asheville for one day to see a Smashing Pumpkins concert, and I fell head over heels for the city.

I have several fears about the city:
1. that I am building it up and idolizing it beyond what it could ever have been, and will be disappointed if I ever get to go back
2. that I will never get the chance to go back
3. that, if I get to go back, I will find it changed like so many other places in this country.

anyone who knows me very well (like troy) will think that Asheville is a stupid addition to my 10things list, but the love for the city extends beyond that short visit.

To me, Asheville is proof that this country is not completely lost. there are still places, whole cities where there may be drugs and crime, but people, as a whole, get along, share, love one another, and exist peacefully. The cost of living is low, the scenery is beautiful, people stopped on the streets to say hello, the streets are alive day and night, even the drug addicts and insane people were nice. Its like a whole section of the 60's got trapped in this valley. Its the city of love.

Everything was organic, hand-made, and generally clean and fair-trade. Why cant the rest of the country be so correct and caring? why cant a hamburger in MD have a history? why are hand made clothes in DC or Towson so over-priced? why cant we have organic co-ops instead of massive grocery stores?

Why does the rest of the country have to suck?

I would absolutely love to move there. I am serious. 100% serious. I have never fallen in love with a place. Hell, i've only fallen in love with one person, I didnt think there could be more than that! but Asheville is my second love. Streets full of music, limited walmarts, no fast food downtown, big buildings living peacefully among small cottages and single family homes, all situated cozily between the blue ridge mountains. beautiful.

maybe it would be best to not go back. I can only hope that, regardless of how far the country sinks into despair, Asheville will always be my symbol of how it could be. Hope does exist. so maybe my #7 thing should be labeled "hope". the city is wonderful, but the hope it inspires in me is what i appreciate most.